


The Broken Captain

by GarnetAngel21



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Depression, Friendship, Gen, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 05:31:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12574768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GarnetAngel21/pseuds/GarnetAngel21
Summary: Captain America was supposed to be a symbol of strength. However, at that moment, he felt anything but strong.





	The Broken Captain

A/N: This fanfic is set after Captain America: The Winter Soldier. 

Warning: This fanfic contains mention of depression and self-harm. Please refrain from reading if these topics make you uncomfortable. 

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, Marvel does. 

It was a relatively quiet night in New York and the night sky was clear, revealing the breathtaking beauty of the shimmering stars above. He loved to stare at the stars, they calmed him down on restless nights when sleep did not provide any comfort. Those nights had become far more frequent ever since he had found out that Bucky Barnes, his best friend, was still alive. He should have been happy, but the circumstances in which they had been reunited had been anything but joyous. Bucky had been brainwashed and served HYDRA. And it was all his fault because he had not been able to save his friend.

Steve sighed as he walked to one of the many parks across the city. This park, in particular, had a sentimental meaning to him. It looked far different than it had seventy years ago, but it was the same park that he and Bucky had made so many memories in. He smiled, fondly, as he remembered Bucky beating up a bully who had stolen Steve's sketchbook. His eyes shifted to a large oak tree and he remembered that Bucky had once, excitedly, told him that it was behind that tree that he'd first kissed a girl. The blond man got up and looked around, seeing a bunch of trees that had not been there before. He felt for something in his pocket, its cool metal brushing over his fingertips, and he walked to the trees. 

He sat far in between the trees and looked around. His enhanced senses assured him that he was alone. He took a deep breath and rolled up his sleeves, staring at the scars on his forearm that were barely visible. He frowned. Sometimes he wished that he did not have the ability to heal quickly, perhaps if he were able to see the scars then he wouldn't have to create more. He silently scoffed to himself. That was a lie. 

He removed the metal object from his pocket, it was a straight razor blade that he had purchased from a convenience store, and he stared at it for a few seconds before dragging it across his pale skin in a slow motion. He bit his lip as he forced the blade deeper into his skin, a thin stream of blood flowing down his forearm. 

He continued until there were at least five deep gashes and he merely stared at them, disgust filling his mind. He hated being weak. He was Captain America, he was not supposed to be weak. He had fought so many battles, so many powerful enemies and there he was, losing a fight within his mind. If Bucky could see him now... Tears welled up in his eyes as he thought of Bucky, his one and only friend as he was growing up, who no longer remembered him. It was all his fault. A sob managed to escape Steve's throat as he began to imagine what HYDRA had done to his friend to make him into their weapon.

It had not just been his friend's sudden reappearance that had sparked Steve's self-destructive behavior. No, it had all started when they had removed him from the ice. He thought of Peggy, now a fragile old woman, whom he had left behind. He thought of how he had missed Howard's wedding and Tony's birth and how he would have loved to have been “Uncle Steve” to a young Tony. He was sure that Tony would have hated him less, had he survived, because Howard wouldn't have spoken about him so often. Perhaps he would have had children of his own, with Peggy. He may even have grown old and happy and died naturally. But none of that had happened. Instead, he had been thrown into a modern world with strange customs and he had been forced to adjust to it quickly as there were even more threats to fight against. He had been praised as a hero, but deep within his heart Steve Rogers did not feel any more a hero as that skinny kid in Brooklyn did. 

Filled with even more contempt for himself, he created yet another gash within his skin. He wondered what the Avengers would do if they could see him, their so-called leader, in such a state. Natasha would stare at him with concerned eyes, Tony would probably feel uncomfortable, Clint would be quiet, Thor would perhaps hug him and Banner... Well, he had seen the doctor's wrists once, but he had remained quiet. Yes, Banner would understand, but that did not mean he was comfortable enough to talk to him about it- not only that, he was sure that the man had enough problems of his own to deal with. A sudden rustling sound caused Steve to be on guard and he pulled his sleeve down, roughly, causing him to wince. He looked around but there was no one in sight. He cursed as he realized he was defenseless, he had left his shield at the tower.

“Who's there?” He glared into the darkness, clenching his hands into fists. “Tony, I swear, if you followed me-”

Moonlight reflected off metal and he panicked, thinking perhaps it was a weapon. He tackled the person, aggressively. “Who the hell are you? What do you want?”

The person grunted in annoyance. “Apparently, my name is James Buchanan Barnes.”

Steve gasped and let him go. The figure stood up and when the moonlight shone on his face, his heart nearly stopped. It was him, it was Bucky. Steve's face paled. Had he seen? Had he been watching the entire time?

“Bucky, I-” Steve began, but he was cut off when a metal first slammed into his jaw.

“What the hell do you think you're doing?” He grabbed the blade out of Steve's hand and tossed it aside, angrily as he picked the blond up by the collar. He pinned him to a nearby tree, his light blue eyes wide and filled with concern. “You were always reckless, but this is... This is going to far! You could have hit a vein, Steve, and then what? What if your serum didn't heal you fast enough? Did you even think about that?”

Bucky frowned as tears streamed down the blond man's face. Steve's dark blue eyes were filled with shame and pain and he could not look the other man in the face. “I'm sorry.” He managed to choke out and Bucky slowly lowered him.

“Steve. Steve, hey, look at me.” Bucky touched the man's chin softly and made him look at him. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to shout at you... I-I'm not that angry. I mean, I am, but I'm more worried than angry...”

“W-What are you doing here, Bucky? Where have you been? Do you remember everything?” Steve asked, staring at his friend.

He was changing the topic, but Bucky decided to answer his questions first. Perhaps it would put the blond at ease. “After the helicarrier incident, I went to the museum. There was an exhibition about you. I saw Bucky's- I mean, my memorial and I saw all the videos. About a week after that, I began to remember things. They were vague, random things, but they were memories either way and I...I wanted to see you, so that maybe I could ask you a few things.”

“How did you know I was here?” Steve asked, sinking down to the ground. 

Bucky sat down in front of him, his legs crossed. “I was near the tower when I saw you walk out, so I followed you and then, I saw...I didn't know what to do until you tackled me.”

Steve laughed, nervously. “Yeah, sorry about that. I'm also sorry you had to see that...” He fiddled with his fingers. “It's not exactly the great Captain America that they portray in the museums, is it?”

“I don't care about Captain America.” Bucky glared at him. “I care about Steve Rogers. I may not remember everything, but I do know that it tore my heart to see you do this to yourself... Steve, I tried to kill you and you didn't give up on me... I just don't understand why a good person like you-”

“I'm not a good person!” Steve suddenly, screamed. “You fell because of me, HYDRA found you and hurt you and used you because of me! Tony had a terrible childhood because of me... That person in the museum that people idolize, that isn't me... Nobody needs Steve Rogers...”

“I need Steve Rogers!” Bucky grabbed him by the shoulders. “I-I know, you feel alone and you're tired and scared... But so am I! You're the only person who does not want me dead... The one person who did not hurt me... I need you, Steve.” 

Steve stared at the dark haired man, his face slightly flushed and he leaped into his arms, causing him to fall over. He held onto Bucky, tightly, and he began to cry. He no longer cared if anyone saw or heard him, all he could think of was that his best friend was alive and that he remembered him, that he needed him. 

Bucky smiled, warmly and stroked the blond's hair while he placed his metal arm over him. “You know, this is supposed to be the other way around... I'm the broken one and you're supposed to be comforting me, you know?” 

Steve let out a small laugh and sniffled. “You were always the strong one, James.” 

Bucky smirked and ruffled the blond's hair playfully. “You know that I hate it when you call me that you punk. Or should I call you Steven? Or maybe Grant?”

“Shut up, you jerk.” Steve sat up and smiled at his friend as he wiped his face, trying to retain some sort of dignity. Although, he knew that it didn't matter because it was Bucky. 

“Steve, please promise me...” He frowned as Steve shook his head.

“I can't promise anything, Bucky. And I'd rather not, either, because I might disappoint you.” Steve bit his lip.

“You could never disappoint me, you idiot... But... how long have you been doing it? I-It's okay if you don't want to tell me...” Bucky held his friend's hand, ignoring the blood that had slipped into Steve's palm and was now smeared against his metallic hand.

“About six months after I came out of the ice. I tried it once, to see if it worked. Then...a few months after that, it became a frequent thing. Nobody knew, of course, because I kept to myself and because the serum pretty much hid it...” He frowned as he stared at the metal hand, enclosing his own. “I'm sorry, Bucky...”

“I've had more blood on my hands than this. Literally and figuratively.” He frowned and realized what Steve meant when the blond shook his head. “Oh, you meant my arm... Steve, it's okay. It wasn't your fault. I mean, yeah, I do miss my normal arm but this one has its perks. And it's my left arm, luckily, so I can still do lots of things.” 

Steve turned red when the dark haired man grinned at him and he punched him lightly. “You're still a scoundrel!”

“What? Oh, I never meant it that way!” Bucky smirked. “Looks like Captain America is secretly a pervert!” 

They yelled at each other and laughed. It was just like old times and it made Steve's heart flutter with joy. It was getting late and Steve decided it was time to go home.

He grabbed Bucky by the hand. “You're going to stay with me, just like old times.”

The ex-assassin looked slightly uncomfortable. “Um, I don't think your friends would appreciate my presence... Especially that red-haired lady and the man with the winged suit... I did try to kill them...” 

“They know it wasn't you, that your mind was under HYDRA's control.” Steve said, swiftly and stared at his friend with pleading eyes. “Please, Bucky?”

Bucky sighed. Even now, with barely any memories, he still could not say no to that face. “Alright, fine...”

Steve all but yelled in excitement as he dragged Bucky back to the tower with him. The dark haired man merely smiled and followed. While the world may hate him and want him dead, there was one person who still needed him and he vowed, right there and then, that he would always be there for him. Just like old times.


End file.
